


Winter Break

by Akallabeth



Category: Magids Series - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Family, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 04:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21440116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akallabeth/pseuds/Akallabeth
Summary: Maree and Rupert host Christmas dinner for their families.
Relationships: Maree Mallory/Rupert Venables
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Winter Break

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seiya234](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seiya234/gifts).

I saved my work (a report for the Senior Magid on the prelimary stages of my new assignment) as soon as the kitchen door squeaked on its hinges. "Your Aunt Irene called earlier. She can't make it for Christmas," I called out.

While it's a safe guess, I probably shouldn't have assumed it was Maree opening the back door: Derek Mallory has been known to use that route, too (though, in fairness, it's only when he's returning whichever of the animals has wandered into his garden). We're otherwise still on just enough ceremony to knock before entering the other's house. 

"Good evening to you, too." Maree. And, judging from the tone of her voice, either the Koryfonic Empire and/or my middle brother Simon had been grating on her nerves all afternoon. Even with revisions coming up, her veterinary course hasn't caused that particular verbal tic in weeks. It probably helped that her ex, Robbie, had dropped out of university entirely, and no longer haunted the laboratory sessions. 

"Are you sure about Aunt Irene?", she continued, "Hearing anything over that din..." Maree shrugged off her jacket before closing the back door. The quacks, as usual, took advantage of that fact to follow her in. 

"Well, she might have accepted the invitation and asked to bring her husband's extended family along." I hung it up Maree's jacket while she struggled out of the brocade robes and ceremonial bands. The formal dress is one of many things that I do not miss about the Empire. However, Maree's chosen form of rebellion--wearing her well-loved leather jacket over the Imperial regalia--does add an ironic sort of charm to the stuffy white and purple garments. "But I think she said that they're all spending the holidays with her in-laws on Majorca."

Maree gave a sort of relieved sigh, which probably had more to do with finally freeing herself from the robes than the news of her extended family's travel plans. 

"Dinner's nearly ready, but there's time if you want to wash up."

"Thank you. I'll feel moderately more human for it." 

While Maree showered off the dust of interworld travel and the tedium of millenia-old ceremony, I put away the robes, set the table, and failed repeatedly to escort the quacks back outside. Fortunately, the resident bird expert shortly reappeared<a name="return1" rel="nofollow" id="return1"></a><sup>[<a title="click to see footnote" href="#note1" rel="nofollow">1</a>]</sup>, now looking much more herself in her favorite faded blue jeans and an "All Roads Lead _from_ Telth" Tunic-shirt that I'm fairly sure Will gave me two years ago. 

An hour later, with the dishes washed, the left over eggplant parmesan put away, and the Koryfonic Empire thoroughly excorciated, we settled into the parlor with a bottle of wine and the pile of lists that I'd been accumulating. Also, two Thule quacks that steadfastly refused to go outside.

"So, if we put mother in the guest room, Simon in the office, and Will and Carina in the library..."

"The girls can sleep in the living room? Unless you want to magic up the barn?"

"Derek's been using it as a workshop."

Maree nodded her head in agreement. "I'll go admire it tomorrow. Dad always wanted a larger space for testing prototypes. But that definitely rules out the barn--even if we cleaned it up, he'd wonder why the girls weren't in a warm house. Since we can't just say we persuaded the temperature to remain stable." Maree fixed me with her questioning look, eyebrow raised. Fortunately, I was pretty sure she was teasing me. We both knew that conversations about magic have to carefully regulated on earth.

It would be easy to forget, after the events of last Easter, that Magids usually just can't go around telling Naywards folks about magic and the multiverse. The other Mallorys were an exception for having been caught in the middle of it, but things more often fell out as they did with my mother: she didn't know that any, much less all, of her three sons were Magids, nor that her two daughters-law didn't come from this universe (or that one of them even existed, but that was Simon's fault and not a Magid necessity.) Mind, I still don't know what Will's told her about why her grandkids are so hard to see, other than some vague ideas that they live "far away" (seven worlds ayewards of Earth) to be "nearer Carey's family" (on her home world of Thule). 

"What about your family?" I asked.

"Uncle Ted and Nic are coming up earlier now. After the cancer scare and losing Janine, Uncle Ted wants to spend as much time with Dad as possible. And Nic wants a chance of pace this year. As of yesterday, they're both planning on driving up as soon as Nic's school term ends."

"And your aunt's family is off to Majorca."

"Jonathan's parents have a vacation home there, I think. I guess they finally decided to try flying with seven kids."

We exchanged mutual grimaces. As much as I love my nieces, chaperoning them through several hours in cramped public spaces would not be a relaxing prospect. I'd rather walk with them several world naywards than take a commercial flight, if only because it's faster and less crowded. 

"Heard from your mum?", I finally asked.

"She's still deciding. I think she'd rather not see Dad." Maree looked down at her glass. "It's not that they dislike each other, but I think their ideas of what family holidays should look like don't necessarily include exes." 

**

As it turned out, seeing their daughter over Christmas overruled whatever awkwardness might still lay between Linda Nuttail and Derek Mallory.

While this was a welcome development for Maree, we both could have used a little more warning. I'll accept at least partial blame--while tidying up the office to serve as Simon' guest room, I had mistakenly disconnected the Earth-only fax machine, _and_ managed to cross the mundane and magical telephone lines at the same time. So, the first news we had of the changed plans came with the arrival of Linda and Marge Nuttail early on Christmas Eve--while I was still in the process of disentangling the electronics, and Maree was attempting to (magically) secure the backdoor against the quacks. 

This naturally corresponded with the Mallory brothers' return from their golf excursion, leading to Linda and Derek meeting again for the first time years on my front drive. As my own mother turned her sports car into the same driveway, narrowly missing the Nuttail's van. And, because trouble (or at least complications) always come in threes, Will and Carina's not-Land-Rover rolled up at the same time, bringing with it seasonal chaos in earnest.

Fortunately, the first near-miss-collision distracted Linda, Marge, Derek, Ted, and Mum from noticing that the second involved a vehicle that had never actually turned off the main road. Nic, on the other hand, seems to be recalling a few parallel incidents from last Easter (the one involving his centaur half-brother, the other involving the Wantchester Bus Terminal). 

I put aside the idea that we Magids really needed to work out a system of right-of-ways for vehicles transversing the lattice between worlds, and rushed outside to figure out whether everyone was alright.

Just in time to hear my niece Vanessa solemnly informing Maree's mother than "Magic isn't real on Earth and no one believes in it."

There had evidently been some pre-travel instructions for the children.

My own mother--now with a twin clinging to either leg--was introducing herself to Ted and Derek

"Mary Venables. Rupert's mum. This is my eldest, William, his wife Carina, and their daughters Venetia, Vanessa, Vanda, Viola, Valentina, and Vendela--"

"Perhaps everyone would like to come in for some tea?", I asked. And was promptly bowled over by Venetia, Valentina, and Vendela (who had escaped from Carey sometime within the last ten seconds). By the time I had righted myself, reassured the girls that the quacks were doing well, and appreciated Venetia's new knotted-string bracelet, Maree had made it out front (sans quacks), and was gently escorting her mother' partner, Marge, towards the house. The poor lady looked extemely uncomfortable, though in the moment I misattributed the cause to the boisterous company. Apparently, was due more to the braces of heron-like bute-fowl that Will had brought along for Christmas dinner.

The other adults followed Maree's lead, leaving Carey and myself to get the last of the children indoors. Mum had somehow hung onto Vanda and Viola, which made things considerably easier. 

**

We made it through tea and introductions, with a hasty conference with Derek Mallory to see if he could take in Simon for the night, and only a few alarming references to non-Earth topics. I think Mum, Derek and the Nuttails took the girls' mentions of sollyhens, Magids, and the car trip here as childish fancies, rather than evidence of multiple worlds. Or possibly they concluded my brother and sister-in-law belonged to some sort of cult and/or criminal organization. At any rate, that conversation broke down at Vanda's excited cry of "Quacks!" 

"Yes, they are lovely duck," Linda agreed. "Though I don't recall seeing all-blue birds before. Maree, are they some special breed?"

"Buktaru quacks!", Venetia corrected, though Maree managed to cover for her. "They're fairly rare. They were a gift from Will and Carey."

"What are their names?" Viola asked.

"Quacks don't have names, only sollies do!", Venentia insisted. 

"They can have names, too", I told her. Which is how I came to spend the rest of the afternoon wading into the garden pond after stray children, while adjudicating the merits of different names for the two quacks.

It was the nicest afternoon I've had in several years (excluding a choice few spent with Maree). Even if I did end up missing Simon's arrival, and subsequent introduction of Zinka, whom, last I'd heard, was to be covering Simon's Magid work in his absence. Her homeworld of Ewyse celebrates its dominant holidays near the summer solstice, and she usually prefers to avoid winter holidays as mildly distasteful.

Of course, I eventually had to return to the house to prepare dinner, and to get the girls closer to dry clothes. (The actual implementation being left to their parents). Which is how I found Zinka and Marge sharing bottles of Thalangian cider at my kitchen table. 

"Rupert! Mrs. Nuttail here was just telling me about about her store. The Mallorys said to tell you they's be back for dinner as planned, but have some things to drop off at home."

Zinka, bless her, had read the situation and promptly started deflecting from any extraordinary topics. She was, mind you, still wearing her usual velvet robes, but if anything that seemed to have reassured Marge rather than alarming her.

"And what did they end up naming the 'quacks'?", Marge eventuallly ventured.

"Batholomew Olive Bear and Victoria Antigone Venables, I think, though I'm not sure which is which." 

From the other room, I could hear Mum's voice--not raised, just unyielding--asking Simon how he had managed to be married three years without introducing his wife. 

Marge didn't notice my blush at the 'three years', but Zinka winked her eye._ I'll tell you someday_, she thought at me. _It's a good story._

**

Dinner brought with it no new complications. I managed to draw the short straw (very much rigged on my part) and stay home with Carey and Zinka and the youngest children while everyone else went carolling. 

"I'll save it for when I'm home and know the words," Carey explained. Zinka nodded thoughtfully.

It wasn't until the next morning--after we had levitated the children's presents onto their conjured campbeds--that it transpired that Will had never explained Santa Claus to the girls. Or to Carey, who found the idea confusing (Thule's part of Earth's outer group and shares some significant customs, though the Christmas-analogue holiday has presents left anonymously by all of one's friends). Venetia thought Santa absurd, Vanessa questioned Santa's motives, Vanda wondered how he got enought toys for all the children, Viola became concerned about strangers coming into one's house, Valentina wondered how Santa knew what every child wanted, and Vendela conceded that presents were fun. 

Mum and Linda both looked thoroughly scandalized at six children having never heard of Santa, but the arrival of the Mallorys plus Simon and Zinka offered some distraction, primarily in the form of home-made crackers.

Magid-made crackers, which opened with oddly- musical "bang"s, but otherwise contained the usual games, riddles and silly hats. Simon really should have known better, though, because fully half of the crackers replaced the confetti with small polychrome flowers found only far ayewards of Earth. 

**

Despite it all, no additional Magid secrets were compromised that Christmas. And I did enjoy swapping recipes with Linda, discussing books with Ted (I'd been reading through Maree's Sci-Fi/Fantasy collection while she's down in Bristol at classes), and introducing my mother to Maree's family. 

New Year's Eve saw the two of us once again sharing wine on the sofa. This time with a silly movie instead of a long list of things to-do.

"I love your family. I love my family. But I am glad that's over."

"Again next year?" 

"Yes."

<a name="note1" rel="nofollow" id="note1"></a><sup>1</sup>Not that the resident bird expert actually _did _anything about removing said birds from the dining room. But, she could have, which is comforting in itself.<sup>[<a href="#return1" title="return to text" rel="nofollow">return to text</a>]</sup>


End file.
